


Daisies, Tulips and Roses

by LadyPaige



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi, Multiple sexual relationships involving Oliver, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPaige/pseuds/LadyPaige
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Queen ran away from home to get away from his father after that horrible night but with limited money and the determination to take care of himself, Ollie found that there was only one choice. His life was brightened however when he met Slade.<br/>- Discontinued -</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> The title is not for the reasons you think. I know because I made the reason but the title is by far the best I have ever made. Really proud of it and you will see later why.
> 
> Working on Beyond Description which I'm sad to say is nearing it's end. As is Little One.

Oliver swirled his mouth out with mouthwash, it tasted far to minty but it was better than walking home with the taste of the blonde tech bodily fluids on his tongue.

She was a nice women, young and pretty but she had bad luck with men, however Ollie was always there to make her feel better after. She was a regular client, although she was still rather shy about the whole matter but she paid well and after she always let him use her shower or mouthwash in this case.

Oliver pulled on his tight skinny jeans over his naked behind and his deep blue dress shirt. He paused for a moment, eyeing the tattoo of a star on his chest that ensured his production on the streets of Starling. He smirked, doing up his shirt before grabbing his favourite jacket from where it sat folded on the toilet seat. It was black leather, tinted ever so slightly, giving it a green shine, with green cotton fabric sown on from the under the armpits up, with a hood. This, along with a pair of leather pants of the same dark green and a pair of black boots, made up his outfit for when he was looking for work on the streets.

Oliver opened the door to find Felicity sitting on her bed, she held up the notes to him with a shy smile.

Ollie chuckled and kissed her cheek before moving back and taking the notes.

She blushed.

* * *

Oliver stretched his arms out with a yawn as he walked down the street. He had put a lot of money away using the Bratva lately so he could keep the amounts for tonight and yesterday.

His body was worn, his arse still sore from his meeting with Diggle and all he wanted was to go home to his little run down apartment and go to bed. Especially after these past few weeks. One of his semi regulars Laurel had been complaining about her sister, then hours later another one of his regulars Sara had been complaining about her sibling. With the exact same story and they did look rather alike, it did not take long for Oliver to put two and two together. Then his detective client Quentin had cancelled on yet another of their meetings, trying to work around that man's life was a nightmare. Ollie did not mind if it was during their time together as the Sargent always paid him in full but an hour or so before costs Ollie money.

His route as always took him past an old style pub.

Since the age of nineteen, when his father kicked him out -or he ran away, as the old man would say- Oliver had started working on the streets. At the age of twenty-two, he had men a navy man coming out of this pub as he happened to pass it. That night had by far been the weirdest hook up of his life because there was no sex. No nothing. They went back to his hotel and chatted. Ollie had not been in big rush, although this guy did not look like the kind to follow a sad act -not that the blonde was any good at that-, he had a lot of money by the looks of his room so Oliver figured that the more they talked meant the more time the man would pay for. After an hour, the man wished him good night and Ollie left with his hours worth and money for a cap.

The guy was gorgeous, naturally tanned skin, large hand, huge bulging arms and chest, his hair was a military cut which was sometimes a short cut and spiky and sometimes puffy, which made Oliver just want to run his hands through it all night. His eyelashes were long and black, framing his dark brown, almost black irises. Everything about him from the dark hair on his arms, his large body to his deep coarse Australian accent was just so primal.

Every couple of months, like clockwork this guy would come to Starling and go to that pub. Oliver would just pass by the window, glancing in and their eyes would meet, and that was it. To his hotel room for nothing but light chatting and watching some TV. They would meet up a handful of times for a week or two and then the man would be off again.

He had told Oliver before about him being in the navy so the blonde guessed that was what he was doing now but he was not sure. People in the armed forces left for months, years at a time and returned for much longer than a couple of weeks. Ollie knew when things like work were not to be asked about, so he didn't. He liked the man though. He had even taught Oliver how to fight on one of his stays, both defence and attack moves from all over the globe, China mostly. Oliver guessed that the man was just lonely and Ollie was happy to keep him company. He was a really fun guy to be around and after one of his many stop over periods, Oliver had even brought his leather jacket as a Christmas present to himself.

These visits went on for two years. Oliver waited for his next visit for three months before he realised that the man was later than usual and he missed him. He waited and waited, every night passing the pub, whether or not he had work. Nothing, nothing at all. It had been just over a year since the man's last visit and Oliver missed him still.

Oliver looked into the window, into every gap the man could be sitting in but found nothing. He sighed. Ollie slipped his phone from his pocket. Filled with the many numbers of his clients and his friends in the Bratva. Right at the top, below An for Anatoli, was Aussie. No contact number, nor photo. Just Aussie.

The blonde walked past the pub.

* * *

The following morning Oliver attended his weekly coffee morning with Tommy. The two of them had been best of friends since they were kids, he had even hid Oliver away in his house for a week while the blonde drained his bank accounts. Oliver had left the Queen manor with bruises and what he now knew to be two fractured ribs. Work was hard to come by due to his age, Tommy had tried to give him money but Ollie would not take it. He hated the idea of becoming a whore but it would pay the bills, he was young and cute -apparently- , it was cash in hand, so no paper trail and it was an ultimate fuck you to his father.

Tommy had done right by his friend thought, slipping him food, always paying for drinks and meals when they went out before Oliver ever had the chance, which Oliver both hated and loved him for. The greatest deed he ever did however was taking Oliver's virginity, the thing the blonde had been most worried about. Although according to his gentlemen callers he played the "virgin" card very well. He was a good actor but not a quick liar.

"How's work at Verdant going?" Tommy asked, placing their coffees down on the table and taking a seat.

Oliver leered at his friend but took the coffee. "Fine." Oliver said. "Got quite a bit of money saved up." It was February after all.

"That's good." Tommy nodded.

"Busy time of year."

Tommy grimaced. "Thanks for that."

Oliver grinned. Revenge.

* * *

Oliver spent a good few hours with Tommy. They talked about life, joked about events that had happened since their last meeting and as always there was a moment about Oliver's family. Robert was away for business, Moira was taking care of the company with the help of Walter -Oliver did not need a brain in his skull to figure that one out- and Thea had started to sneak into Oliver's old bedroom to sleep in again. Even at eighteen, she still found comfort from being in his room. Tommy did not know what had upset her as of late. It could have been social or she could just be missing her brother. Regardless Oliver knew he could not return.

At the same time he could not leave. He knew how the city was laid out, he had regular clients, he knew how the gangs and street walkers worked, and he had protection. He could enlist the Bratva's help in another city but he did not want to look a gift horse in the mouth with this one. No, Ollie was stuck here and moving away or going home was out of the question.

After Tommy, Oliver went to get some shopping. On his way to the pub and then home, he first took a detour through a small park. It was not much of a park but it was green. Trees with huge green leaves blocked out some of the city, even if the skyscrapers towered over them. The grass was a nice deep green and there were patches of daffodils everywhere. There was even a few groups of tulips planted in a row by some student. Red, pink, yellow, purple. All grouped together in three bright bundles of colour. Ollie liked them.

Oliver sat down on the bench facing the flowers, placing his shopping down by his feet. He just sat there for a moment, admiring the plant life.

Looking down to the grass at his feet, he saw a redish purple flower. He plucked it from the grass, holding the stem between his fingers and rolled it so the flower head bounced along the side of his finger and thumb.

"Arrow?"

Oliver felt his heart stop beating in his chest when he heard that deep and gravelly, Australian voice. Butterflies with wings of fire danced in his belly. He stopped breathing. His ribcage felt like it was clamping down on him like a vice.

Oliver looked over and could not help the wide smile that pulled at his lips. "Hey."

The Aussie smiled lightly, holding a hand out to the bench. "Do you mind?"

Oliver shook his head, moving to one side.

"Good to see you kid." the man said, taking a seat.

"It's been a long time." Oliver said.

"Yeah sorry about that." The man said, looking over to the tulips. "It could not be helped. When did those get here?"

"They were planted a few months back. It's little a early for them to be flowering but it has been warm this year." Oliver said, "Daffodils too." he pointed over to the yellow flowers.

"And clover."

Ollie raised a brow at the older man.

"In your hand."

Oliver lifted the purple flower, eyeing it with his bright blue eyes, mixed with swirls of emerald and speckles of gold around the centre. "I didn't know clover had flowers."

"Red and white clover." he said, resting an arm along the back of the bench.

"Are flowers the only difference?"

The Aussie shrugged. "Red clover has a higher sugar content."

Oliver looked over to him.

"Good for livestock."

Oliver cocked a brow.

"Sheep, cows." The older man listed.

"Why do you know that?" Oliver grinned.

"I worked for a few farmers when I was younger."

"Younger? How old are you?"

The man pressed his lips together, leaning forward and ruffling Oliver's hair with his hand.

Ollie laughed, moving forward to get away. He held up his arms to protect himself, throwing the flower at the man, which bounced off his chest.

The man chuckled, leaning back against the seat. "The other difference is the meanings." he said, taking the flower from where it landed on his lap.

"What are the meaning?" Oliver asked. Although what he really wanted to know was how the man knew the meanings of different flowers.

"Red clover means hard worker."

Oliver nodded. He was a hard worker. More a worker for something hard.

"And white," the Aussie looked around the bench, spotting something and leaving. Coming back, he sat down with a smaller white flower with the same petal design of the red clover. "has two meanings. Think of me and I promise."

Oliver shook his head at the man. "You know weird things."

"It comes in use."

"Oh?"

"For example." The dark-eyed man said, holding the white clover flower in the air. "Your hand."

Oliver raised his hand, palm up.

"I will see you later tonight." the man said, placing the flower in blonde's hand.

Ollie smiled. "Where are you staying?"

"Same place as last."

"Number."

"Thirty."

"At eight?"

"Sounds good." The Australian stood. "Before I forget." he grinned. "My name is Slade Wilson." he said, before turning and leaving.

"Slade Wilson." Oliver mumbled the words as the man left, watching his large muscles move under his clinging clothing. The name tingled Ollie's lips.


	2. Chapter two

Oliver slipped on a normal pair of dark blue jeans, a pair he wore when he went out, which did not involve whoring. That's what he was. People brought his mouth. His arse. But this was all he could do. He was good for nothing else. His body was freshly washed, skin red and a little sore from scrubbing the feeling of dirtiness away. His mouth tasted overwhelming minty as he had cleaned it with mouthwash and toothpaste, he had been half tempted to use soap.

He then grabbed a brown Henley from one of his draws. It was a nice shirt that really showed off his chest. Like the jeans, he never worn them on an "outing". The same went with his trainers, boxers -which he never saw the point of wearing when he was working-, even his socks. He wanted to be clean. Oliver, tonight, was a whore free zone.

Every time Slade came to visit, Oliver stopped working. Slade would hire him multiple times a week for two weeks, sometimes every night. He paid well and Oliver saved up before hand to make sure he would be able to survive only on what Slade paid him for. The reason he did this was because it was nice to not shell his body for two weeks. Two weeks where he went to spend time with a friend at night and looked at other means of work in the day. It was a tight squeeze only being with Slade for that time period but it felt like a little holiday and Oliver had missed it dearly.

"Okay." Oliver sighed, eyeing himself in the bathroom mirror which was all fogged up, minus the area he had wiped away with his hand. He took a breath. "I'm going to see Slade." he smiled uncontrollably. He knew his name. His smile fell when his thoughts went else where. He really hoped Slade did not want to have sex... He frowned. His shoulders shook with a sad laugh. "I'm a whore." His said into the mirror, eyeing his own dull green eyes. It was all he would ever be good for.

* * *

Slade grinned when he opened to door to find Oliver stood behind it. He moved back, opening the door further. "Come in." he said, throwing his dress shirt over the butt of his hand gun that was slotted in the back of his jeans.

Oliver nodded with a smile, stepping inside.

It was a nice room with cream walls, white borders and oak floors. The seating was leather, the TV a large flat screen sat on top of a oak set of draws with brass handles.

"I meant to ask before. Where did you learn about the meanings of flowers?"

"It's just something I picked up over the years." Slade said shutting the door, he held his arm out to the sofa. "Feel free."

"Thank you." Oliver said, walking over and taking a seat. The news was on in the back round, showing the headlines which would be explained further for the next hour. Nothing he was overly bothered by. "Do you know the meanings of the different coloured tulips? The ones in the park were red, pink, purple and yellow."

Slade hummed in thought. "Tea?" he asked, as alcohol and coffee where a no go.

"Please." Slade always had such good tea. Not that Oliver was a fan of it or anything. He did not always have the money to spend but like not having to work or getting to wear his "normal" clothes, it was something he only really got to do when he was with Slade which did make it kind of special.

"Well, red is love." Slade said, "It has to be, every flower that can be red is either love or passion." He stepped over to the kitchen, placing his gun in a draw. "Yellow tulips mean happy thought, not sure about pink but purple I know for a fact represents royalty."

Oliver snorted.

"What?" Slade peeked his head around the corner to look at the blonde.

"It's nothing." Ollie said, waving the topic away with his hand. "Does purple generally represent royalty or just tulips?"

"Generally, I think." The Aussie shrugged. He looked around the kitchen, trying to think of where the kettle would be hiding. "Like how white means pure and innocent and black is sympathy."

"I had an aunt living in France." Oliver started. "She used to grow these little blue flowers, the middle was yellow and they smelt amazing. I forget what they're called but I know they were nicknamed mouse ears because of the leaves."

"I think I know what you mean. They're European, that's all I know."

Oliver smiled, shoulders shaking lightly. "This conversation is getting pretty girly." he said, standing and walking over to the kitchen, to find "ah ha"ing when Slade found an electric kettle in a cupboard.

"Well I do have steaks in the fridge." Slade suggested, "Although stake and tea is a little odd but I'll make it work."

Oliver was speechless. He had not eaten stake since he lived back with his family, no one had cooked for him since Tommy's attempts when Ollie had lived with him. "That's not... No. Just..."

Slade looked at him with a cocked brow.

"You don't need to."

"I would like to. It's up to you but," Slade smirked. "I can cook a good steak."

Oliver frowned, his eyebrows had that conflicted wiggle.

"I like spending time with you." Slade said, placing the kettle down and leaning against the counter. "I haven't seen you in a year and I want to make it up to you."

"You don't have to."

Slade nodded. "I know but I would like to."

Oliver paused for a moment longer. Slade was going to cook for him? Make it up to him? Why? Finally he nodded. "Okay."

Slade smiled, moving over to the fridge to get the milk and stakes.

"Oliver."

Slade hummed in question, looking over to the blonde.

"My name. It's Oliver." Ollie explained.

"Oliver." Slade said, testing the name on his lips. "It's nice."

Ollie gave a shy smile.

* * *

Sitting on the leather sofa; bellies full, multiple cups of tea drank, Slade and Oliver had been talking for nearly two hours. Most of it was about Ollie -avoiding his work on the streets of course- and it had the blonde wondering what had happened to Australian.

"If you don't mind me asking." Oliver started. "What were you doing this past year?"

"That's hard to say." Slade said, his voice sounding lower and more husky.

"I'm sorry." Oliver quickly said. The two had been facing each other, both with they're arms on the back of the sofa. Oliver's long pale fingers just an inch or two away from Slade's. When Ollie spoke, he realised that Slade may have been uncomfortable so he pushed himself away which in term made his hand slip ever so slightly and brush against the large tanned hand.

Slade threw his hand back like it had been burned, although his dark eyes showed an almost blank expression.

Oliver pulled his hands to his chest. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine." Slade said, shaking his head. "A lot happened."

"I shouldn't have asked or touched-"

Slade cupped Oliver's cheek, looing dead into his eyes. "It's fine kid."

Ollie felt himself stop breathing. He just stared into those dark eyes, feeling the warmth of Slade's hand on his cheek. Slade never really touched him before and it felt so good. He felt himself relaxing and exhaling onto the Aussie's wrist.

Slade ran his calloused thump along Oliver's cupid's bow. "I've missed you."

Ollie smiled. "I've missed you too." he said, feeling his lips move along Slade's rough skin.

The silence was oddly comfortable. Too comfortable. That was when Oliver felt his gut squeeze, his breath cut out which after a few second made Slade raise a brow. Looking into those wide eye with his deep pools of black, long eyelashes falling half closed.

Oliver wanted to touch Slade, to kiss him. He had not felt that way for anyone since he started this life back when he was nineteen.

Slade was not moving away or any closer, enough time had passed that he must have seen the cogs moving in Oliver's mind and yet he did nothing. Did not even wet his lips as a hint, a reassurance or a push. It was all Ollie's choice and he wanted more than anything in that moment to just do it. Fuck fear and self-loathing, and grabbed Slade's face, pull him forward and kiss him. Feel those full lips, warm and wet against his.

The blonde wanted to know if the Aussie's eyebrows would lower in concentration, if he could feel his heart beat race from his neck, if the flavour of meat and herbs would somehow taste sweeter from his mouth.

Oliver lifted his hand to Slade's, running his nails along the back of the tanned hand, his fingertips sliding between Slade's fingers. "I should get going." he added quickly, "But I'm free tomorrow night."

Slade smirked. "Alright." he took his hand back, flexing his fingers so his nails ran down the inside of Oliver's hand.

The ticklish trails make Ollie want to shift, especially when they ran over the centre of his palm.

Oliver's phone started to vibrate, very near moving across the rosewood coffee table. The blonde only just stopped himself from jumping. He grabbed the phone. He felt relieved because, as much as he wanted to stay, he was now out of this bubble of a moment, he could go away and think about what his next move should be but upon seeing who exactly was calling him, Ollie gave his phone a annoyed look, his lip twitching in sudden loss of humour.

_Lance_

The Sargent was all for texting arrangements, calls only meant that he wanted to meet up right then. After cancellation and cancellation, the guy wants to set something up tonight? Seriously? Ollie hung up the phone, standing up from the sofa.

"So, here tomorrow? Same time?" Oliver asked.

"Of course." Slade said, moving to grab his wallet from his pocket.

Oliver held up a hand. "No. It's fine." he smiled. "I had fun, plus you cooked." he pointed out. This night, these feelings. Oliver did not want them to be ruined by Slade paying him for it.

The Aussie nodded, pressing his lips together in thought. "Okay." He said, grabbing a few notes from his back pocket and passing them to Oliver, between his index and middle finger.

Ollie gave the older man an odd look.

"For a cab." Slade explained.

Oliver gave him a deadpan look.

"Would you just walk otherwise?"

Oliver smirked and took the notes.

* * *

Oliver left Slade's room with a smitten smile on his face, even as he called the cab company on his way down the elevator. Making his way to the bottom floor, he sat down in the lobby. He did not have to consider about seeing Lance later tonight, it was his time off after all, like every time Slade... It was then that he realised that at some point in the next week or so Slade would be gone once more. His insides felt pained, his chest empty and cold like his heart had been sucked into a void.

Ollie sighed, his head knocking the wall behind him. He spotted the man at the desk looking a him a couple of times and he left exposed, like he could see what the blonde was. Oliver tugged his sleeves down to hide his skin and tried his best to act casual.

A smile pulled at his lips when he realised that he a name for Slade now. He pulled the mobile from his pocket and selected the contact list. Changing Aussie to Slade Wilson. The lack of a picture, number or even an email still bothered him deep down but he could not help grinning like a floor as he eyed the name.

His cuffs slipped back down, the cool air from an open window caused goosebumps to raise on his skin but he was on cloud nine. He could honestly not give a shit.


End file.
